


One of These Days (I'll end up tracking you down)

by mosylu



Series: I'm Coming After You [2]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: AU, F/M, Killer Frost - Freeform, Rogue Cisco, also Snart getting beaten up, and who doesn't love that, except not, heisty good fun, sexy sexy enemies, vibe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 02:12:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4286841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosylu/pseuds/mosylu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Cisco worries that Caitlin Snow of the CCPD's Meta Division has no reason to help out a Rogue, and every reason to make him think she will.</p><p>"Seriously, you’d think he’d’ve learned. Falling for somebody beautiful and dangerous had been how he’d gotten himself into this mess."</p>
            </blockquote>





	One of These Days (I'll end up tracking you down)

**Author's Note:**

> When I posted the first story in this series, I meant it to be a one-shot, but Hedgi asked if there would be more and I thought, "You know, that would actually be super-fun!"
> 
> Apparently the Fanfic Gods' definition of fun meant I was getting myself into a month and a half of grinding my teeth over this story. But I hope it's fun to read.

Cisco had his earbuds in, bopping along down the street, when he noticed his breath coming out in clouds.

Well, that was odd for July.

He pursed his lips and blew, watching the plume of white spill up before his eyes. A huge smile spread over his face, and he took the earbuds out.

He turned to face the woman several feet away. “Well, hey there, Officer Frost. Or are we on good enough terms that I can call you Killer?”

“We’re not on terms of you calling me anything,” she snipped back.

She was in running clothes - a t-shirt with the Star Labs logo and little shorts that made her legs look extra long, not that they needed the help. Her hair was pulled up in a bouncy ponytail, with little wisps escaping and curling around her face. She looked young and fresh-scrubbed and about as deadly as a Tribble.

But it was dusk, and she was a woman on her own, and there were already guys leering at her legs and her butt and her iPod as they slouched in doorways or hung out their car windows. If they just knew what she was capable of, they’d be the ones running.

The thought made him grin even bigger, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

“What are you up to, Vibe?”

“Me?” He pointed at his chest, widening his eyes. “I’m just taking a stroll like a law-abiding citizen. What are you doing?”

Unfortunately, she did not say, _Looking for you._ Instead, she crossed her arms. “Really? Do you even know how to abide by the law?”

“I’ve gone, like, two days without breaking any laws.” He tapped his chin. “Oh, no, wait, I lied. I jaywalked just now.”

“Maybe I should check with dispatch, see if there’ve been any calls in the area.”

He pouted. “Wait, now, what kind of Rogue do you think I am? I’d never commit a crime without one of my friends. It’s no fun on my own.”

She sauntered - yeah, she did, she _sauntered_ , that was new - up to him. “I’m sure you make your own fun. And you know, there is the little matter of you having escaped from police custody.”

Right after he’d pretty much told her he’d switch sides if they found Dante. Hopefully a topic that was going to come up ASAP. But right here and now, it was impossible because it’d be back to Leonard Snart in about two seconds.

Instead, he laughed. “Okay, is that even really a big deal? I wasn’t charged with anything. Just wanted for questioning.”

“True. And I wasn’t done questioning.”

He judged the moment right to bolt, spinning on his heel and leaping off down the street. She paused just long enough to yell, “Hey! Hey, stop!” before pelting after him.

A couple of streets down, there was a dead-end alley without windows. He skidded through his turn, throwing a small boom at the the corner of the building to keep himself upright, jumping over a puddle that looked all-too-easy to freeze into a slick trap. She loved doing that. One of her favorites when she was trying to catch him.

Oops. Right. He wanted her to catch him.

He pretended that his foot caught the edge of a garbage bag and stumbled, flailing. He caught himself, but the moment was enough. Two steps later, she caught him, slamming him back against the brick wall underneath a huge A/C unit. She grabbed his wrists, freezing shackles around them and anchoring them to the wall.

His wrist cuffs protected him from ice burns, so all he felt was a chill through the heavy leather. Not much worse than walking around in winter with a gap between your gloves and your coat.

She stepped back, folding her arms. “I think you’re getting slower, Vibe.”

“I think you’re getting faster,” he said. Oh, wait, that was not nearly up to his usual standards. “Or meaner. You feel meaner? This shackling thing is new.”

“I can fill your mouth with ice too if you want.”

“Oh, would you? Because it’s going to be a scorcher tonight.” All right, if he was talking about the weather, he was definitely tapped out. Although how you were supposed to have any brains left for witty banter when a gorgeous superhero had you tied up, Cisco really didn’t know.

Fortunately, at that moment, the A/C unit above their heads kicked in with a roar. He caught the vibrations of the sound, magnifying the noise for anybody who might be listening in, and minimizing it for them. “Have you found my brother?”

She hesitated. “We have leads,” she said. “What are the Rogues planning? We know something’s happening soon.”

“Leads to where? Is he okay?”

“Heist, Cisco. Focus.”

“I am focused. And how did I become your snitch anyway?”

She hiked up her chin, staring down her nose at him. Without her usual high heels, they were about eye level with each other, but she managed it anyway. “When you made me a deal.”

_Find my brother and I’m all yours._

“I’m not yours yet,” he said.

She pressed her lips together. “I told you. We have leads. But I need something from you. Think of it as demonstrating good faith.”

“Do you know what my brother’s life would be worth if Len thought I was working with the cops? It could be measured in microseconds.”

She met his eyes. “I won’t let that happen.”

Her eyes always startled him. Every time, he expected ice-blue, to go with her powers. But they were the color of dark, sweet honey. And now he knew what they looked like when she smiled, and when she laughed.

“Trust me,” she said.

He wanted to. He wanted to trust somebody. His dumb heart, which had never known what was good for it, wanted to trust her.

He tossed his hair out of his face. “How stupid would I be, to clue you in on crime I’m helping out with?”

“Then something you’re not involved with. You must hear things.”

He licked his lips. “Might be good to go by Third and Mayhew tomorrow.”

Her eyes flickered with calculation, and he knew she’d remembered that the Great Western Bank downtown branch was on that corner. “What time?”

He hesitated again, but if he didn’t give her anything, and Len called off the heist due to police patrols, then his good faith offering would be dust. “About noon.”

“Okay. Be ready.”

“For what?”

The A/C clonked off, and she said, “What did you say to me?”

“I - uh - ”

Her eyes narrowed, warningly.

He leered. “C'mon, baby, you know you want to.” Okay, imaginative it wasn’t, but if he was the kind of guy to say _you know you want to,_ imagination wouldn’t be a priority anyway.

She punched him in the stomach. Well, not actually; she checked her fist just before it made contact. But he let out a grunt and folded around it, for the look of the thing.

She marched off, calling, “Watch that mouth, Vibe, or that’s where my fist is going next.”

She disappeared around the corner.

“Um,” he said to the warm, empty night air. “Huh.” He wiggled his hands. The shackles were pretty tight to the building, the ice too thick to break just by twisting.

Someone peered around the corner.

“Hey, man,” he called out. “A little help?”

The guy turned and left, pulling his phone out.

Cisco sighed. “Well. Shit.”

He rested back against the bricks. It was warm tonight; he’d be out eventually.

_I’m not yours yet._

Ha. Liar. He’d been hers for awhile now.

He couldn’t even pinpoint it, but he knew it was sometime between the moment he’d looked up during a heist and seen her striding in with that fur-trimmed catsuit and the ass-kicking boots, as gorgeous as a butterfly knife, and the moment she’d turned in his arms in a loud, crowded club, her face alight with laughter

Seriously, you’d think he’d’ve learned. Falling for somebody beautiful and dangerous had been how he’d gotten himself into this mess.

* * *

Half an hour later, Lisa Snart walked around the corner, took in the scene, and shook her head. “Oh, Cisco, really?”

Before he could answer, she left. Ten minutes later she was back with two steaming cups. She spilled hot coffee over the wall until one shackle popped off, and then the other. They crashed to the ground, shattering into tiny shards that began melting almost immediately.

He said, “Ow,” flexing his chilled wrists and blowing on the red marks where she’d splashed his hands.

Lisa tossed the quarter-full cup to the ground and sipped from the second one. “You know, baby, sometimes I think you actually like her.”

“Well, of course I like her. She’s never lied to me.”

She made a face at the cup and tossed it, too. The lid popped off and coffee spilled over the ground. “She’s always been totally upfront about wanting to kick your ass.”

“Exactly! Aw, Lisa, I’m proud of you. You must have been studying up on the concept of honesty.”

She pouted. “I’m honest.”

“I don’t know what dictionary you’re using, but it sucks.”

She slithered a hand through his arm. “You didn’t answer my texts.”

“I was _frozen_ to a _wall,_ ” he said patiently, disengaging himself.

“For a whole hour?”

Okay, no, he’d been ignoring her before that. Dumb, but he did that sometimes. Stretched his leash to see how far it went before the Rogues reeled him back in. Usually he could go two hours, or even three. He wondered what had prompted this sudden neediness, and his heart gave a little jolt at the thought of Dante.

But no, Caitlin had just said they had leads.

He shrugged. “Listening to my music,” he said. “Must’ve missed them.”

“We thought you’d taken off to Vegas without us,” she cooed, but her eyes were like knives. “You’d miss all the fun.”

This time he let her take his arm. “Would I do that to you?”

* * *

Len didn’t glance up when Lisa pulled Cisco through the door like he was a puppy who didn’t want to be put in his crate. “So,” he drawled. “What did the ice-cold officer of the law want?”

One of these days, Cisco was going to tell him that the languid drawl was seriously obnoxious. Not today, though. Not when he’d just demonstrated how good his information network was.

Cisco shrugged, dropping into a chair next to him. “Just the usual. Wanted to swear her eternal love and devotion. I had to crush her soul, though. My heart belongs to only one.”

Lisa smirked.

“My 3-D printer,” he finished.

Her face went sour.

Len smirked. He’d always seemed entertained when Cisco snubbed Lisa, or when Lisa manipulated Cisco. Like they were his own personal soap opera. Cisco had resented it until he realized that sniping at Lisa was one of the things that kept him sane. He didn’t have so many of those that he could afford to give one up just for spite.

“Really, though,” Len said. “What did she want?”

Cisco dug in his pocket for the bag of Red Vines he’d picked up at the convenience store. “Who knows?” he said, fishing one out and sticking it in his mouth. “She kicked up a fuss about ‘wanted for questioning’ and 'property damage’ and 'escape from police custody’ and honestly, I think she just wanted to try out this new ice shackle trick.” He rubbed his wrists. “It’s a pain in the ass,” he added. “In case you were wondering.”

Len studied him. Cisco chomped his candy, praying that the past eighteen months had taught him a little something about controlling his facial expressions. He knew how Len’s mind worked by now. Captain Cold wouldn’t lay a finger on Cisco if he thought he’d betrayed them to the police - they needed him too much - but Dante would pay the whole price.

Finally, Len smiled his thin sneer of a smile and went back to studying the floor plan of the bank. Cisco knew better to let his breath out or drop his shoulders or do anything that betrayed relief. He wasn’t entirely sure it had worked, anyway.

“So,” Len said. “Change of plans for tomorrow.”

A chill rolled up Cisco’s spine, but he said, “Are we going to WallyWorld?”

“I want you on the scene.”

“I’m running interference on the police bands, remember?” He was doing it from his apartment, far away from the crime scene, and he planned on not interfering at all.

“Closer in,” Len said. “Inside the bank. With us. Cutting all the communications. Is that a problem?”

His stomach turned to rock. Once, about a year ago, Len had asked if something was a problem, with that same smirk.

At the time, Cisco hadn’t figured him out yet. He’d said, in fact yes, it was a problem, he’d rather not help rob an armored car, thanks very much, count him out.

The next day, he’d gotten Dante’s pinky in a box, and a text from Len. _Still a problem?_

He’d given the same answer he gave now. “Nope. No problem at all.”

* * *

At twelve-oh-nine the next day, he walked in the front doors of the Great Western Bank, fiddling with his phone. Anybody looking over his shoulder would have seen him in what looked like a text program, shooting off strings of emojis and acronyms. The number he was sending them to was the bank’s IP, cracking his way in.

Len had gone in first, to get in line. Cisco was next. In two minutes, Mick would walk in, and Lisa would bring up the rear.

When they’d been planning this, Cisco had said, “Why lunchtime? Everybody and their mother’s going to be there.”

“More people, more confusion,” Len had drawled.

Cisco thought that Len got off on a terrified captive audience, all those people cowering in front of him. Of course, he hadn’t said it.

Len had kept him on a short leash for the past sixteen hours. Cisco had managed a quick search for Caitlin’s e-mail, her phone number, but everything he sent bounced back or got a “wrong number” reply.

He shouldn’t be surprised. She was a cop, after all. Finding her real contact info probably required more digging than he could do on his phone in the bathroom.

And even if he did get through, what could he possibly expect? He was robbing a bank. She was a cop. One plus one equaled ten to twenty.

Maybe they could get away. Maybe if he did what he was supposed to - but Caitlin would never trust him again. The best he could hope for was that she’d keep looking for Dante, but maybe she’d think that was a trick too, and -

Fuck Len. Just … fuck him.

He loitered at the counter, filling out a deposit slip. He entertained himself by writing in pi to the eighth decimal place for the deposit amount, and his library card number for the account number. When enough people stood between him and Len, he joined the line.

He scanned the rest of the bank, but there was nobody that screamed “cop” to him. Nobody who was a little too alert, nobody with a suspicious bulge under their clothes.

Had Caitlin gotten his messages anyway? Had she called off the cops? But she wouldn’t do that, not when he’d practically told her they were robbing the place. Where the hell were they?

The security guard shifted his weight, his hands on his belt. He nodded at Cisco. He was one of Len’s.

Cisco didn’t nod back. He looked around for cops again.

Not a suit jacket in the place; it was all t-shirts and torn jeans, polos and Friday casual. Back at the deposit-slip counter, a couple of mommies in yoga pants were talking about nail tutorials they’d found on Pinterest. A skinny, balding man who looked like his Uncle Augie the accountant sorted checks next to them.

He thought, _Oh, god, let this go smoothly. Don’t let any of these people get hurt._ Not the kid in the metal shirt and the slightly infected industrial piercing in front of him, not the grandma-looking lady who was reading that _50 Shades of Grey_ book while she waited, not the high-school principal one line over with the shoeshine-black bob, who kept twisting her phone in her fingers, clearly impatient to be done and out of here.

For some reason, his eyes kept drifting back to her. He shook himself. He should be paying attention to Len, keeping an eye out for cops, hell, even trying to do Zen breathing because his heart was slamming into his ribs so hard it felt bruised.

But that woman -

He found himself fixating on her, on the curve of her jaw, her straight, elegant carriage, her -

_Oh._

The hair had thrown him off. But that was Caitlin Snow, no question.

Besides the wig - awwwww, he really hoped it was a wig and she hadn’t, like, chopped it off and dyed it or something - she wore a sleek dress with an abstract pattern in browns and blues, and a scarfy kind of thing around her neck, and high heels that went click-click-click on the marble floors.

Weirdly, it worked on her. Of course, he was biased; probably everything worked on her, because it was on her. A potato sack. Sweatpants. Nothing at all - _no, Cisco, concentrate, you horny moron_.

She shifted her weight, tapping her fingers on her phone case as if she barely realized she was holding it. At the angle where he was, though, he could see the camera, taking a video of the whole bank as she shifted her weight, staring at the front of the line.

Oh, nice. _Nice_. Scanning the room without even seeming to look around.

She checked her phone, playing the video back. He saw the moment that she spotted him on the screen. Her eyes tightened at the corners and her lips parted in a soundless gasp. Then she did look around, under pretense of pulling the scarfy thing down over her arms.

Her eyes landed on him, long enough that he could give her a tight little smile, and then swept past. She tapped something on the screen, then put it to her ear.

“Hey. It’s me. Where are you?” She paused as if listening to the reply. “Where?” She dropped her head back, overcome with exasperation. “Why on God’s green earth, Frankie - ”

Frankie? He barely kept himself from making a face.

“ - would you go when you knew who else would be there?” She shifted her weight, turning ever so slightly, her eyes sliding sideways toward him. “You need to leave.”

He shook his head a little, pressing his lips together. He couldn’t leave. Mick was ten feet away, and Lisa was stationed by the door.

"Go back home," she insisted.

He jerked his chin ever so slightly toward Leonard, who was stepping up to the head of the line. It was too late to leave, even if he could. It was too late for anything.

She shut her eyes. “Okay, before you go do - whatever it is you’re going to do, I called to let you know that Paulina found her puppy.”

Paulina was his mom’s name. His chest went tight.

_Dante._

But what if she was lying?  

“Yeah, he’s fine. Lost a toe off his front paw, but otherwise perfectly okay.”

Cisco caught his breath. He’d never told anybody about the finger. Not her, not his parents. Nobody knew. The only way she could know was if she’d seen Dante herself.

“So you can stop worrying. I know how tender-hearted you are. Okay? I’ll do what I can.” Her voice softened. “I know you have no reason to, but just trust me, okay?”

It was the same thing she’d said in the alley last night.

_Trust me._

He didn’t trust anyone anymore. Least of all himself.

He bowed his head over his own phone. His job was to cut the feed to the security cameras, and then block the cell reception and the bank’s VOIP so nobody could contact the police. His timing had to be just right, because they didn’t want the sudden blockage tipping anybody off before Len was ready.

What if she was lying to get him to do what she wanted?

His thumb stroked his screen. He wanted to believe her.

Why would she do anything for him?

A big hand came to rest on the base of his neck, and Mick Rory murmured in his ear, “Fun’s about to start, but you seem distracted. Everything okay there, little man?”

Lisa had her femme fatale routine, and Len was the cold-eyed ringleader, but Mick Rory had always been the brutal enforcer of the group, the one who’d twist your arm up behind your back and speculate idly about the Giants as he did so.

Cisco breathed in and out. “Yep,” he said quietly. Up at the teller window, Len was just sliding his note across the counter, his other hand tucked into his coat where the cold gun was hidden.  "Yep. Everything’s fine. Everything’s … perfect.“

Maybe when you had a way out of the arm twisted up behind the back, wanting to believe could be good enough.

He took a step forward, pivoted on one heel, and threw all the momentum of the turn into his slightly cupped hand, slapping Mick squarely in the ear. The bigger man screamed, staggered sideways, and dropped like a sack of rocks. Cisco was over the rail before Mick hit the floor, legs swinging hard.

Len was in the middle of turning in response to Mick’s scream, pulling his gun out of his coat. Cisco’s feet caught him in the side, under his ribs. He let out a guttural grunt and the cold gun went flying.

The teller, already wound up from the threatening note that Len had presented to her, let out a strangled shriek as his head bounced off the counter and he crumpled to the floor with Cisco on top of him.

"Hit the alarm!” Cisco yelled at her. “Do it now!”

“Police, everybody down!” Caitlin shouted.

The bank filled with screams, and gold splashed against the glass of the teller window. Cisco whipped his head around, but Caitlin was on it, and the tip of the gold gun grew an ice plug. Lisa cried out and dropped it as it overheated, and then ice shackled her to one of the tables. The Uncle-Augie-accountant guy had a gun and a badge out, telling her to stay still. She sneered at him, then looked up and snarled at Cisco. He grinned back.

The erotica-reading grandma was cuffing Mick already, with one of the yoga-pants mommies covering her. (The other one was on the ground shrieking, so, half a point for stereotypes maybe?)

He hadn’t pegged a single one as a cop, and TV had _so_ lied to him, but at the moment Cisco was pretty much fine with that.

He looked down at Len. “So, hey. I quit.”

Len snarled, and heaved up under him. Then - _schwick schwick_ \- two ice daggers nailed him by the shirt to the side of the counter. A set of ice shackles formed around his wrists.

Caitlin walked up to him. “I should take it from here,” she said, holding up her badge in the other.

He didn’t take his knee off Len’s sternum. “Looks like you have.”

“Oh, no, I’ve got to read him his rights.” She peered down at Len. “You have the right to remain silent,” she informed him.

As she rattled off the rest of his Mirandas, Cisco got to his feet, stepped back, and let the wheels of justice crank into motion. He took another breath, and felt the knot that had lived between his shoulder blades for eighteen long months loosen and fade away.

* * *

The Rogues had always gotten away before, so Cisco had never realized how dull and drawn-out the whole arresting/investigation process was. He sat on the hood of a police car, watching the show.

He kept looking for Caitlin, wondering if she was looking for him. But every time he saw her, she was on the phone - for real, as far as he could tell, not staging a conversation for a bystander’s benefit. He bit his lip and wondered how mad she’d be if he interrupted her, because it all looked pretty important.

“Hi there!”

He looked around. A pretty black woman beamed at him. “Iris West, Central City Picture News,” she rattled off. “I’m told you’re the hero of the day. Can I have a statement? Let’s start with your name.” She stuck a recorder in his face.

He blinked at her. He recognized her, of course, Caitlin’s friend from the club. Who’d watched him get arrested, who’d ridden along as Caitlin carted his handcuffed ass back to Star Labs.

She knew his name. She knew his _other_ name. “Um,” he said.

“I’m told you were close to the front of the line when Leonard Snart pulled his gun. What crossed your mind when you saw that?”

Um, what? Had he entered a parallel dimension? Or was this woman exceptionally forgetful? Or maybe she had a twin.

She clicked her recorder off with her thumb and leaned in. “Look, how do you want to play the other identity? Secret? Hobby? Concerned citizen? Night job? I can work with you, but I need to know that first.”

“I - ”

An older black man, with grey in his hair and a lieutenant’s badge fastened to his belt, walked up. “Iris, baby - ”

“Working, Dad,” Iris said, a certain steeliness entering the sparkle of her eyes. She thumbed the recorder on again.

“So’m I, and I’m telling you this - gentleman - ” He gave Cisco a look like that wasn’t the word he wanted to use, but the word he wanted to use was sure as hell not going on record. “ - isn’t at liberty to comment right now.”

“Why not?” Iris wanted to know. “He just saved a bank full of people. He took out a bad guy twice his size by rupturing his eardrum, and five seconds later, he threw himself on an armed robber. He’s a hero.”

This was nice. She could keep doing this, as far as Cisco was concerned.

The lieutenant gave him a cool, skeptical look. “We have some questions for him before he goes on the Daily Show.”

She crossed her arms. “I think you should have a medal for him.”

“Thank you, honey, I’ll take your opinion into account.”

Iris turned back to Cisco. “Anything for the public?”

“Uh, I was just doing the right thing,” Cisco said, very fast, before her dad could step in again.

“I like it,” Iris said. “Great quote. Headline worthy.”

Cisco wasn’t sure he wanted to be a headline but if he had to, better this than “Worthless Hoodlum Henchman Arrested.”

The lieutenant chivvied her away and looked at Cisco. “Stay there. Don’t move. I wasn’t kidding about those questions.”

Cisco gave him a guileless smile.

He scowled and headed off toward where the Rogues were all being loaded into separate patrol cars. Mick was still stumbling, his sense of balance all off.

Cisco tried really hard to care about that, but failed spectacularly.

His phone rang, and he dug it out. When he saw the screen, his heart jolted into his throat. He’d called home a few minutes ago but gotten the machine and hung up without leaving a message. “Mama?”

“Cisco, where are you, _mijo_?”

“I’m - um, downtown.”

“Get home, right now. They found Dante.”

He folded over, resting his head against his knees. Some hard kernel of mistrust had remained, the thought that maybe it was a trick, maybe Dante had never been found, but -

“Did you hear me? Your brother. They found him.”

“Yeah, I did, I heard you, Ma.”

“Well? Are you coming?”

“I - ” He looked around.

Caitlin stood on the sidewalk, no longer on her phone. The black wig was gone and her own hair spilled over one shoulder. She had her arms folded as she talked to a patrolman.

He dug his heel into the bumper of the car. He wanted to go over there, to say “hey,” or “nice job” or “so about that deal? I just heard you held up your end, and I’m _totally down_ for holding up mine.”

Or maybe just to see if she’d smile at him.

“Cisco?” his mother said in his ear.

“Um, I’m kind of. I’m in the middle of something. I don’t know when - ”

“If you’re downtown, you can get here in fifteen minutes. Your brother’s been gone a year and a half, he was _kidnapped_ , and now he’s home. Whatever you’re doing can’t wait?”

The lieutenant walked up to Caitlin then, saying something to the patrolman, who nodded and left. She turned to him, saying something quiet that made him smile approvingly at her.

The Flash joined them. He was in civilian clothes, looking rumpled and nerdy, but Cisco could’ve spotted that lanky Tinkertoy body a mile off.

They stood shoulder to shoulder, both of them angled toward their lieutenant, who’d looked at Cisco as if nothing he could ever do would make him trustworthy.

“Cisco,” his mother said. “What’s more important than your own brother?”

“Nothing, Ma, you’re right. Okay. I’m coming right now.”

“Love you, baby. See you soon.”

He slid off the car and wove through the crowd, moving as if he had every right to be leaving the scene. _What, me? I’m not escaping, nuh-uh. Just headin’ out._ It worked, because Cisco had a lifetime of being overlooked behind him, and he knew how to make it work for himself.

Anyway. Killer Frost knew where to find him if she wanted him.

FINIS


End file.
